


Captive Comforts

by WhiteFoxKitsune (ProwlingThunder)



Series: The Everlasting List of Shenanigans [105]
Category: Invasion America
Genre: Alternative Canon, Captive, Gen, Prisoner of War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/WhiteFoxKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt!Fill.</p><p>David, raised up by the Dragit-- gets captured by the Rebellion during a visit to Earth. And by rebellion, he means the Ooshati. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captive Comforts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainbowGal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=RainbowGal).



> Prompt: Bonding, David/Amy
> 
> Rafe and Rita don't get to David in time when he's kidnapped. Saris Krai successfully kidnaps David and delivers him to the Dragit, who raises him up into seeing things his way.

The first thing that came back to him as he woke was pain. Or maybe it was pain that woke him. It was hard to say for sure. It wasn't the all-over pain that came from training too hard or too long, so, alright, Talon wasn't going to nag at him about over-working himself. And the ache in his head wasn't the only one, so he hadn't fallen and knocked himself out; though between that and the ache in his wrists, he was clearly tied.

Not spread eagle, anyway. That was something. Though testing proved his ankles were bound together. Rope, maybe-- primitive, but effective, considering.

David peeked an eye open, taking stock of his... curiously homely... cell. Though it did not look much like one; wooden walls, a low fire burning on the other side of the room-- foolish of his kidnappers to leave it going, maybe he could use that, but he couldn't seem to draw up enough focus and burning the place down might kill him anyway-- a table and basin by the... bed. If it were a bed. David swept his attention down the length of himself, taking in the brightly colored squares stitched together to make a too-thick blanket. The mattress was soft and comfortable beneath him, and the-- the pillows?-- behind his head and shoulders were as well.

Not that they made the position any more comfortable at all, he decided, flicking his attention upwards above him. The pale yellow light glowed from around his wrists, and he drew his arms apart to test their validity; no. Real light-cuffs. Huh. Okay.

The light-cuffs were lashed to a rather sturdy looking knot of wood that spanned the width of the bed by a similar enough set of cuffs, but metallic, maybe steel instead of light. Those, he could have broke. Talon had made him do so enough times on the trip to earth, and then deliberately not do so, picking them free instead of snapping them, just in case. Not that he had ever told him why, of course, Talon could be like that. But one could not pick or snap light-cuffs. Even his uncle couldn't. They didn't work that way.

Would that he could, though. He'd been trained never to get in a position he was ever cuffed, true. But while getting them off would help in his escape, it wasn't the only thing he could do. He'd been trained just as much on how to get himself out of kidnappings like this-- well, not like this, this had never been covered, had he ended up on Loth? What was with the blanket?-- in case Talon never brought help, in case help never came, and not doing his best to get himself free would be a nasty stain on his own honor.

He was in the middle of reassessing his situation-- no windows, one door, the disturbing lack of clothes for at some point his borrowed uniform and the flightsuit had been replaced with a pair of shorts-- that the lone door opened.

The pretty stranger from the park entered, the too-small girl who had impressed him on the swings by landing from a jump with a Tyrusian flourish, darkened with a Military crouch. The one who had lain Talon flat without even breaking a sweat.

David bristled at her.

She ignored him, moving around the bed to set a plate on the table. He caught the scent of chicken and mashed potatoes, gravy and green beans. For a moment he thought she had been sent in to feed him, but was quickly disabused of that notion when she threw a few more logs on the fire and recollected the plate. She sat on the end of the bed, too far out of reach for him to even kick.

Silence stretched, punctuated only by the crackle of firewood. It wasn't comfortable at all, but it wasn't outright hostile like he occasionally had at the bases. The sort he got when eating dinner with so-called General Konrad and various base personnel. This was just...

He didn't know. She was ignoring him, acting like he wasn't even here, and what anger he could summon at the moment was quickly getting squelched by hunger. His uncle had joked about that. That between the four of them-- David and his three elder cousins-- enough food to feed a small army could vanish in a meal. They worked it off as an unspoken rule, worked through it, and were often hungry all over again. Tyrusian metabolisms and all that.

She took forever to finish eating, but when she did she finally looked at him. It wasn't anything he could pick apart, though, she looked away too quickly. Marched to the door, and out of it again, closing it tightly behind her.

He stared at it, bewildered. With the door closed it muffled sounds beyond, but he could hear talking. Too low to have made out even if the door were not in the way, he decided, but certainly a conversation. And a few moments more it opened again.

The girl had come back with a thermos, which was distinctly uninteresting, and another plate of food. David sat up a little further, much as he could. Her eyes settled on him, a strangely familiar pale lavender that might have been blue. He found he couldn't place them, though.

“This is how this works. Every answer gets you a bite. No answer means I take the food and leave. Clear?”

What in his father's name...? This was the strangest interrogation tactic ever.


End file.
